


Keep You Warm

by bouncingclowns



Series: Rosalind Universe [2]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, the babies and their baby again (-:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncingclowns/pseuds/bouncingclowns
Summary: A much requested extension of Mildred and Gwendolyn as parents.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Rosalind Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026480
Comments: 30
Kudos: 70





	Keep You Warm

It’s Gwendolyn who notices it first — the crackle of her breath, the faint redness around her nose, the distinct dryness of her throat. Rosalind assures them both that she’s alright with a soft smile and a stifled sniffles. Gwendolyn refers to Mildred, as tends to be the case, and much to her relief, the younger woman convinces Rosie to stay in bed a little longer.

“You’ll call if you need anything?” Mildred queries, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Gwendolyn nods, kissing the apple of her cheek, and says: “I can handle a little cold. You’re going to be late.”

Mildred nods, but she’s not convinced. Her brow creases, eyes twisting with something dark. Mildred sighs, checking her watch; she really will be late for her shift if she doesn’t leave soon. 

“Alright.” She sighs. “Promise you’ll call.”

Gwendolyn nods: “I promise.” She smiles. “Go on, then.”

Morning slides lazily into early afternoon. The sun peaks around trees and dapples across Gwendolyn’s newspaper. November has always been her favorite month, for it holds a certain crispness which makes the air feel a little lighter, a little less predictable in the otherwise monotonous town of Lucia. Gwendolyn tabs at the page she’s reading, pulling a closer into the blanket dangling across her thighs.

She should check on Rosie, she thinks as she folds the paper in half and places it on the coffee table. First, though, she’ll make some tea. She’s not sure that Rosalind likes tea. In truth, she’s not sure that Rosalind would admit to enjoying anything were she to ask. Gwendolyn sighs as she cuts a wedge of lemon and places it into a mug with some honey and a sachet of ginger tea.

She’s preparing a mug for herself when she hears a thud from upstairs, followed by a murmured cry. The tea is forgotten in moments. Gwendolyn bounds up the stairs, pushing through the door to find Rosalind in a tangled heap of blankets and sweat on the floor. 

“Oh, Rosie.” She breathes, making quick work of scooping the girl into her arms.

She deposits her back on the bed and unfastens her limbs from the blanket. Rosalind’s cheeks hold the distinct, high blush of fever. Her pale eyes flutter and fall closed again.

“‘M alright.” She mumbles, flipping onto her side and curling into a fetal position.

Gwendolyn bites the inside of her cheek. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Rosalind groans, shuddering in a breath as she forces her eyelids up ones more: “I was thirsty.”

Her voice crackles and disintegrates against the dryness in her throat. Gwendolyn tuts, placing the back of her palm to Rosalind’s forehead, before shuffling out of the room with the promise of a quick return. She makes good on her promise. Having gathered a plethora of Tylenol, thermometer, and the tea she’s made moments before, Gwendolyn places the items on the bedside table.

“Here, put this under your tongue.” She says, but Rosalind seems not to hear her. 

She’s fallen to fitful sleep. Gwendolyn sees sweat plastering and gleaming against her cheekbones, but she trembles and clutches her blanket around her with delicate fingers. It won’t do, Gwen thinks, it simply won’t. When she scoops the girl into her arms ones more, Rosalind starts into wakefulness, eyes snapping open, and a whimper catching in her throat.

“Shhh, Rosie, it’s alright.” Gwendolyn soothes, slicking the hair off of her forehead and pulling her close. “You need to see a doctor.”

And  _ oh _ , the look on Rosie’s face is enough to make Gwendolyn’s soul shatter. Rosalind twists in her arms, a bout of adrenaline making her forget her ailment as she writhes free. Gwendolyn, against her better judgement, let’s the girl land back on the mattress.

“Rosalind,  _ Rosie, _ hey it’s alright.”

“No doctors.” Rosalind’s voice is breathless, but Gwen can still hear the panic bubbling behind her words. “Please.  _ Please. _ ”

Gwendolyn doesn’t want to push, has learned better in the relatively short time the ten year old has been in her care. She sighs instead, weighing her options, as Rosalind scrambles into herself against her pillow and watches her with pale, wide eyes.

Gwendolyn sighs: “Alright. No doctor, I promise.”  _ But I’m calling Mildred. _ She adds silently to herself.

The drive from Lucia State Hospital takes thirty minutes.

Mildred makes it back in fifteen.

“Christ, did you fly here?” Gwen offers by way of greeting when the younger woman bounds through the front door.

“Is she alright?” Mildred asks breathlessly.

She’s halfway up the stairs before Gwendolyn can even think of answering her. Mildred pushes through to Rosalind’s bedroom with with the energy of a hurricane, but then …

She stills. Gwendolyn watches her form go rigid in the doorway, watches her arms fly across her midsection, watches her breath catch against her spine.

“Mildred?” She intones softly, placing a palm on the woman’s shoulder.

Mildred flinches back to reality, shrugging the older woman off before stalking over to Rosalind’s side. She kneels in front of her, placing a palm to her forehead. Mildred’s brow only creases further when the girl mumbles something in the fog of her fever.

“Rosie? Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Mildred tries to keep her voice level.

Rosalind sniffles: “I … don’t know.”

There are tears in Mildred’s eyes; Gwen can see them from her vantage in the doorway.

“Yes you do, sweetheart.” Mildred offers a small smile, stroking the girl’s hair with delicate fingers. “It’s alright. You can tell me.”

Rosalind tries to focus her eyes on Mildred. Her lips twist with the weight of whatever it is she’s grappling against. Gwendolyn wishes she knew what that was, wishes she could understand to the extent that Mildred does. God, she feels so helpless sometimes. Gwendolyn knows better than to entertain the pang of jealousy blossoming in her stomach.

“M-my head hurts,” Rosie starts, her already delicate voice trembling dangerously, “when I open my eyes, and I’m sore all over, and I’m cold.”

Mildred nods: “Is there anything else?”

She says it in the cadence of a nurse, not a mother. Gwendolyn thinks perhaps that’s exactly what Rosie needs right now.

“My throat.” Rosie whines, and it’s as if she’s bracing for consequence. “I’m sorry.”

Mildred sucks in a knowing breath, her palm still soothing the girl’s fair hair. To an untrained eye, she would look distant, perhaps even uncaring; but Gwendolyn sees the torment twisting behind her deep eyes, sees the snarl forming on her lips. She’s angry.

No, not just angry: Mildred is livid.

“Don’t be sorry.” Mildred assures her. “I’m going to get some medicine from downstairs, and perhaps some soup. Will you be alright alone?”

Rosalind murmurs a yes. She’s asleep again before either woman can leave the room.

Mildred catches Gwendolyn’s gaze in the doorway before stalking past her. Gwen follows suit, leaving the door open enough so that should Rosalind calls, they can hear her. Once downstairs, Mildred rummages through cabinets. She places a pot on the stove and empties chicken broth into her.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s happened?” Gwendolyn asks when Mildred still hasn’t said anything. 

“You should have told me to stay this morning.” Mildred practically snarls, her back still to Gwen.

Gwen stares at her incredulously: “I didn’t know, Mildred. It was just a cold as far as I — as far as  _ we _ were concerned.”

Mildred’s shoulders drop, palms coming to support her weight against the kitchen counter. She looks smaller, somehow; shorter, less certain. The fight funnels out of her and leaves a woman: just a woman, just Mildred. 

“I know.” Mildred turns to face the older woman. “I’m sorry, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just …”

Gwendolyn closes the gap between them, pulling Mildred into her arms and holding her there. She kisses the top of her head, inhaling the scent of Mildred’s floral shampoo.

“She wouldn’t let me take her to a doctor.” Gwendolyn murmurs.

“No, I expect she wouldn’t.” Mildred’s words are muffled against Gwen’s shoulder. She sighs, leaning into the woman and allowing her to support them both, allowing herself a brief moment of reprieve. “She was probably taught to fear doctors.”

Gwendolyn’s brow furrows. She thinks she should ask, but: “What do you mean?”

She feels Mildred tense: “Doctors cost money.” She says simply, but Gwendolyn understands.

Christ, she feels foolish for not having considered it before. Gwendolyn squeezes Mildred a little tighter, takes a little more of her weight onto her own shoulders. She’s not sure how long they stay like that; long enough for the soup to begin to emit steam, and for Mildred’s shoulders to straighten with newfound composure.

Upon the nurse’s request, Gwendolyn finds a bottle of cough medicine in the pantry — the drowsy kind — to help Rosalind sleep. There’s an order to what Mildred gives Rosalind: cough syrup first, then water, then as much of the broth that the girl can stomach, and some white bread if she feels up to it. Rosalind manages about half the bowl, and even a few meager bites of bread before her eyelids grow heavy again.

Gwendolyn seats herself in a chair at the far corner of her bedroom, tucking her feet up and under herself. Mildred, feeling less than inclined to go back to work, comes to kneel in front of the older woman, resting her head on Gwen’s lap. Gwendolyn welcomes the gesture, pulling her fingers through Mildred’s hair and releasing the tightly pinned bun until her rusty curls are spilling across her shoulders.

“She’ll be alright?” Gwen murmurs when she’s sure Rosalind is asleep.

Mildred nods, her honey coated eyes meeting Gwen’s pale blue ones. Gwendolyn has half a mind to pull the younger woman onto her lap and bury her face in her hair. 

“Just a fever; a virus, no doubt. If she’s not better tomorrow she really should see a doctor.” Mildred assures.

Gwen thinks she exhales for the first time all afternoon, and as she does, tears prickle at the corners of her vision.

“Thank god for you, Mildred.” She breathes, pressing the heel of either hand to her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who can get through to her.”

She feels Mildred’s cool, delicate fingers against her cheek, feels them trail to the base of her skull and tangle with the hair there.

“Oh Gwen, she cares for you so deeply.” Mildred simpers. “You know that, don’t you?”

Gwendolyn nods, and it’s uncertain, perhaps even a little dishonest. Still, she says: “I know.”

Mildred heaves a sigh, fixing a small smile on her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and what’s more, it’s accompanied by a pain in her chest. Gwen is lying, and she knows it.

“You mustn’t be so hard on yourself.”

In truth, Mildred thinks she is relieved to know that this is new to Gwendolyn. It means she hasn’t carried this burden, this great inconvenience with her through life. Gwendolyn has known pain, but not this one. If Mildred can spare her that, then she’ll move mountains to do so.

Rosalind shifts in bed, omitting a soft snore as her sinuses tickle at the disturbance. It stops the women in their tracks, and even manages to elicit a gentle giggle from Gwendolyn. Mildred shushes her by pressing kiss to her lips.

“I’ll try. So long as she’s alright,” Gwendolyn says against her lips, “and so long as I have you.”

Mildred smiles: “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet ❤️ I’m dealing with a lot of stuff and trying very hard to not allow it to affect me. I will be catching up with reading all of your glorious work and commenting very soon - I’m trying to keep myself nice and healthy. I hope you enjoy this little fluffy thing in the meanwhile (-:


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